


A Were's First

by MarilynsWolf



Series: AWF [1]
Category: Powerwolf (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Drinking to Cope, Heavy Drinking, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves in Heat, accidental bed sharing, avoiding eye contact, falk drinks and entire bottle of jaeger in one sitting, falk is bad at feelings, matthew is very tired, the smut turns up really quick but trust me, they're absolute morons, waking up in a panic at 2am, werewolf bureaucracy (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-07-10 00:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19896880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarilynsWolf/pseuds/MarilynsWolf
Summary: Werewolf AU of our favourite German bois.Falk's a little behind on reaching werewolf maturity, about 30 years behind... Now, thanks to a Hypermoon, he's finally got there. But now he's a ~proper~ werewolf. And suddenly having to deal with all the bs that comes with that title is no walk along the territory borders.But with his pack by his side and ready to help, things shouldn't be too bad. Right?Author notes: AWF is less a cohesive narrative, and more a series of inter-connecting one shots. Most chapters will have Falk as the main focus, but there may be some that follow primarily other characters.Chapters may also contain depictions of explicit sexual acts between characters. This fic is in no way intended as a reflection of subjects' sexuality or relationships it's just a bit of fun ya hear?





	1. First Transformation

**Author's Note:**

> I am so far down this fucking rabbit hole and this fic has grown so much from when i first wrote it nearly a year ago please send help

There's always one. In every pack there's always one. One wolf who blooms a lot later than the rest. Attila and his pack knew this, they had just all hoped it wasn't Falk. The rest of the pack had experienced their first full moons years ago, Falk hadn't. Roel was by far the most defensive of the Were, citing that maturity was a fickle and mostly bullshit thing. The Greywolfs gave no mercy, although Matthew was at least a little more sympathetic to Falk’s plight. Attila was just worried. He knew some Weres just never transformed, and most “late bloom” Weres had agonising first times. 

The pack followed the lunar calendar religiously, preparing for the damned night at least a week in advance, sometimes a week and a half if it was an “event” moon. Falk always helped with prep, but he usually disappeared into his private room on the actual night, ashamed that he couldn't take part in the agony. Attila had found him crying after the transformation period a few times, now.

It was coming into the new year, that damn eclipse was looming over the heads of the entire pack. All of them had been on edge, Attila had been running around like a mother hen that lost both her babies and her head. The Greywolfs weren't concerned, not as much as they should have been, according to Attila. Falk was in a state of near constant panic, and Roel, for some reason, had taken everything from the spare room in the house and dumped it in the corner of Falk’s room. Pillows, blankets, sheets, books, and a large dog bed had all been piled into the corner of his room. When asked about it, Roel just said it was an advance plan.

A few days before the eclipse, Falk had gotten so bad he couldn't even leave his room. At that point, Attila stepped in. He carefully knocked on the younger Were’s door, pulling a face at the startled yelp that responded. “Checking up on you. Am I allowed in?” Silence greeted him for a few seconds before the door cracked open. The two Weres made eye contact through the door, Attila noted that Falk looked sickly. He tilted his head slightly, quirking an eyebrow up; Falk pulled a face but otherwise didn't tell him to leave. Instead he stepped backwards, opening the door further to let his Alpha in. “Want me to close the door?” A nod.

Attila smiled warmly, stepping in and gently closing the door behind him. Falk wrung his hands anxiously, he was shaking ever so slightly, too. “Falk… I-”

“I'm sorry” Falk interrupted, his voice sounding about the crack. “I just… If. If this doesn't do it, nothing will, right?” Attila knew why he was so panicked. Such strong lunar energy would wake a long dead Were from their slumber, if this didn't turn out to be Falk's first moon, then what would?

“You're still part of the pack. Transformation or not, you're a pack member.” Attila kept his tone very carefully level. The last thing Falk needed was a perceived guilt trip.

“I don’t feel like it though. You, and Roel, and the Greywolfs, you all have proof of your blood. I don't. I'm scared that my affirmation will never be. I was supposed to have my first moon at 15 god damn it!” He started shaking more and more violently as his voice grew. There was real fear in his entire body language.

“Falk. Take a breath and sit down. You look positively deathly.” Falk very quickly sat down on the side of his bed, so much so that his bounced ever so slightly. “Proof of your blood will come. With time, or this moon itself, it will come. You were born of lupine blood, the moon will show the way I promise.” Attila sighed, dragging a hand through his locks. He knew something was up this moon with Falk. He looked like he would drop dead any moment, probably felt it too. And he was crying, that was also a thing.

Falk was trying desperately to blink and fight away the tears that were busy beading and dripping down his cheeks. Shaking quite violently, he wrung his hands, staring at his leader with pleading eyes. “Attila.” His voice cracked. “I can’t fucking stand this. My-my… I feel like. Oh, god-” Any semblance of coherence Falk had was quickly lost, talking causing his mind to go faster than he could keep up with it. He bowed his head, hiding his face in his hands with a choked sob. His palms wet with his tears, Falk couldn’t really do anything except quietly keen, ashamed and miserable.

Attila brimmed with sympathy, stepping forward to be in front of his dear pack member. Lifting his hands up, he gently cupped Falk’s cheeks, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Falk hiccuped as Attila took his hands, moving them away from his face. He sniffed, lifting his head to look at his Alpha. He was still shaking quite a lot, clenching his fists in Attila’s hands, wincing as his nails dug into his palms.

Attila smiled, running his thumbs across Falk’s hands. “Falk Maria, your moon will come. On my word as a pack Alpha, ok?” Falk nodded, hiccuping and trying to not cry again. He felt sick, sick, deathly, and downright sore. His throat felt raw, he hadn’t even been crying that loudly. 

Falk winced again, feelling a headache building in the back of his skull. Attila raised an eyebrow, worried. “Falk. Are you ok?” Falk unclenched his hands, staring at his nails which had darkened to a mild grey.

“I… I don’t think s-” Falk doubled over with a startled and pained yelp, Attila quickly grabbing his shoulders to support him. The young were’s shaking grew exponentially more violent, panting raggedly. His headache quickly got larger but he was much more concerned with the pain radiating from his chest.

Attila was suddenly incredibly glad Falk was not looking up at him. Given the panic filling his eyes, he felt Falk probably didn’t need it. It was early, far too early. The eclipse wasn’t for another two days yet. But, if it was happening right now, which it was, there wasn’t any way to stop it. He sighed, Time to ride it out.

Falk felt he was going to die, his heart was pounding out of his chest, and his head felt it was going to explode. Whatever sensation he had from Attila holding his shoulders, was lost to the amount of pain he was in. His fingers were on fire, white hot lightning cracking and shooting through his hands and up his wrists. Tears bled, quite literally, from his eyes, diluted red running down his cheeks, blood dripping from his clenched jaw as his tongue flattened and shaved down. He coughed, spitting out the rapidly dying flesh that was shaving off his tongue.

It was going to ruin his bed if he stayed on it, werewolf transformations were always messy, without fail. Attila gently guided Falk to the floor, pulling a face at the Were’s pained wince. He knew Falk’s clothes were as good as gone, unless he was lucky and his clothes only ripped in a few places. Probably not, but really, Falk’s clothes were the least of his concerns at this moment. Neither was his carpet.

Falk’s lungs shut down for a moment, choking him; a least he was smart enough to keep from clawing at his throat. He shakily looked up at Attila, gasping as his lungs opened again. “A-Attila.” It was kind of pointless to ask what was happening, that much was agonisingly obvious. And talking hurt, hurt like a rusty knife dragging through his throat. Falk spat out another mouthful of blood and dead flesh, it fell to the carpet with a dull slosh. 

Attila could virtually feel his ears pull back at the thought of how much cleaning they would have to do. There was going to be no getting the metallic blood smell out of Falk’s room for a week. He took Falk’s hand with one of his own, reaching over to pet his hair with the other. “If you can, it’s easier to limp up a bit. Makes some of the breaks more bearable.” 

“Breaks?” Falk barely got the word out, yelping as his left leg crunched, twisted, and shattered. A splash of blood burst from his pantlegs, the fabric ripping as the limb reshaped itself into a digitigrade-like form, his right leg was quick to follow. Although the pain was great, Falk quickly surpassed the act of screaming, settling into gasps and keens, his hands grasping at anything to claw into. Blood fell from his mouth again, along with a few teeth from how hard he had clenched his jaw and bit into his cheek.

Attila could do the equivalent of jack shit, kneeling next to his dear Were, watching him writhe, tremble and keen. His hand was surely going to be crushed by Falk’s grasping, but he didn’t care. Anything he could do to ease the journey was going to be done. He winced sympathetically as Falk’s tail burst into being, spraying blood, and other things, against the bedsheets he was lying against. There was a reason any sane were sustained from eating the day of a full moon.

Falk’s head lulled to the side, resting limply on the floor. A wave of shame washed over him briefly, his hand twitching in Attila’s. He felt Attila’s free hand drag across his hair, murmuring something that Falk guessed was supposed to be comforting, but he didn’t hear it at all. All he could hear apart from his own whines, was the rush of blood through his ears and the squelches of his muscles reforming and reshaping. Falk could feel his bones giving way under the shifting of his muscles, each break shooting through him like a bullet; by about halfway through his major bones, he had no strength left to even squeak.

Falk’s hands and arms had fully formed, his claws ripping into the carpet and scraping at the underwood. In fact, most of him had formed, except his skull. His hair had withered and lupine ears had most certainly sprouted, but his face was still very much human, apart from the greyness. Attila just prayed that Falk fell unconscious, unlikely though it was, before his face took form, it was arguably the worst bit.

Falk lay on the floor mostly unmoving, clutching his head with one giant paw as the lingering headache grew worse. He could feel teeth growing and pushing into position in his jaw, he also felt there were way too many teeth to fit into the jaw he already had. Clenching his eyes shut, Falk prepared himself, or as much as he could anyhow.

Attila had seen it happen many a time, but the sight of blood just bursting from someone’s face was still disconcerting. He sighed as Falk found his voice, winding up into a loud and lengthy shout. Maybe the rest of the pack didn’t hear it, maybe. Unlikely. He just hoped they were smart enough to leave be until he gave the clear. He watched as Falk gave a final jerky shudder, collapsing into a bloody, panting heap.

It was over, over surprisingly quickly, little over five minutes. Falk wasn’t quite sure where or when he was, riding an adrenaline high better than any booze night he’d experienced. Vaguely, he felt himself get lifted slightly from the floor into a seated position. A smile twitched at his face as he was leant against his alpha, any familiarity feeling downright euphoric. He felt wet, both himself and his remaining clothing soaked in his own blood. He couldn’t help but start giggling, shifting to face into Attila’s chest, the fit continuing but slowly morphing into barely disguised sobs.

Attila held his charge against his chest, embracing the bloody mass of fur as gently as he could. At the sobs, he shifted Falk up a little bit, fully cradling the newly formed were in his arms. He pressed a kiss between Falk’s ears, giving him a gentle headbutt.

“I’m so proud of you…”


	2. First Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heat seasons are bullshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, this one is steamy  
> Also note the marked improvement in writing  
> Cause I only finish a chapter on the whims of the old gods  
> I need assistance

The gentle light of dawn filtered through Falk’s curtains, illuminating his still form. A thin sheen of sweat across his brow, the Were had been sleeping on and off all night. He was either too hot, too cold, or a strange and uncomfortable combination of both. Currently he lay awake, staring at the wall opposite his bed. He remembered first waking up around 1am or so in a cold sweat. He hadn’t thought much of it as he forced himself back to sleep, probably just a nightmare he couldn’t remember. By the third time he re-awoke then it got annoying, by 6am he had just decided to stay awake. He was definitely sick, that much was clear. He was cold, his skin clammy, and a headache slowly pulsed away at the base of his skull. All in all, he didn’t sleep well.

It was going to be one of those days. Falk’s gaze flicked up to the clock beside his bed, 7:17am.

The rest of the pack was probably waking soon, he didn’t want to face them like this. Didn’t want to get them sick, too. He groaned, shifting his head further into his pillow. He didn’t feel like getting up, let alone going downstairs to eat. Roel would probably be mad at him if he didn’t, which meant that he had to. Or, at least, go downstairs and feel terrible for a while until Attila ordered him back to his room.

Falk looked back at the clock, 7:34, well, the rest of the pack was definitely awake by this point. He could even hear footfalls and doors opening and closing again. Fuck it. If he delayed, they would all get worried. Forcing himself upright, Falk swung his legs off the bed, letting the rest of his body follow until he was standing. Not without effort, however. The room spun for a second, thankfully he didn’t fall flat on his face. He definitely wasn’t going anywhere today, so, he just threw on the first shirt and pair of pants he could grab from his closet. Might as well get the short interactions over with so he could go back to sleep.

He almost felt hungover as he opened his door, stepping into the relative brightness of the lit hallway. Seemed like everyone else was already downstairs. Sighing, Falk forced himself to patter down the hallway and down the stairs leading to the main living room. He must have looked about as bad as he felt, given the first thing that Roel said to his as he rounded the corner was “Mornin’ Falk. You, you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just slept real shitty” He lied. Well, it wasn’t really a lie, he really did have a horrible sleep. As much a character flaw than anything, Falk really hated admitting he was sick. Something he was sure he was going to regret one of these days. Roel just nodded and went back to laying the table. Falk rubbed at his eyes and headed into the kitchen, rummaging through the shelves for the honey tea. The kitchen really was too bright for him, the off-white tiles reflecting just enough LED light to remind Falk of his headache.

Concentrating as to not spill boiling water over himself, Falk hadn’t heard Attila enter the kitchen. He was just thankful that he wasn’t holding the mug when he turned around and Attila was standing there beside him to make coffee. He was pretty sure the entire pack heard his yelp, however.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Falk nodded, trying to get his heartbeat back down. God damn it was his Alpha not an intruder, he shouldn’t have been so startled. “Try not to collapse, yea? Don’t want you getting hurt.” Attila’s voice sounded strangely honeyed, not that it usually wasn’t. Falk just heard it a lot clearer for some reason.

“I’ll try. At this point I may well, given how poorly I slept.” Falk gave a weak chuckle, picking up his mug and heading back to the living room, giving Matthew a slight nod as a “good morning”. Matthew nodded back, sliding into one of the chairs at the table. Before Matthew could say anything, Charles emerged from the stairwell, distracting Matthew and looking like he got even less sleep than Falk did. Falk was thankful for the sparing, settling down and just sipping at his tea in the vague hope it would wake him up some. It did not.

At some point the rest of the pack had seated themselves, toast and various other things laid out for any of them to take. Falk just guessed he was zoning out a bit, grabbing a few slices of toast and blackberry jam. Pretty much all he could stomach at that moment.

“Falk?... Falk!” Falk jumped in his chair, whipping his head around to face Roel who had been calling his name. “Jeez, man. Are you sure you’re ok?”

“You were staring off into space for about 3 minutes.” Charles interjected. Falk pulled a face, taking another sip of his, now cold-ish, tea. A small debate with himself ensued, he could probably get away with just saying he was tired. But, if he was actually sick, it would spread to the rest of the pack if he stayed downstairs. Also, he couldn’t deny zoning out if they were pointing it out to him. He sighed, putting his mug down.

“Just feel pretty horrible at the moment. Didn’t sleep at all and I have an accursed headache. Tea hasn’t helped, either.”

Attila gave a concerned trill, finishing a swig of his coffee. “Go and get some more rest. If you’re sick, you’re sick, nothing much to be done. You do sound deathly. Go, I’ll bring up some tea later, ok?” There was that damn honey again, Falk almost felt better just hearing his Alpha speak. However, Attila was right. What he needed to do was head back upstairs and collapse into unconsciousness. Shaking his head briefly, Falk pushed away from the table and stood up, quickly finishing his tea and placing the mug in the kitchen sink. As fast as he could stand to walk, Falk brushed back past the rest of his pack and padded back upstairs. 

Back in the safety of his own room, he could finally admit to himself how sick he felt, stripping his shirt off and flinging it into the corner of his room. God he was sweating a lot, just what the hell was wrong with him? Seated on the side of his bed, Falk also wriggled out of his pants, which had felt annoyingly tight. He quickly found out why that was.

Nope. He was not having that. He grumbled, cursing under his breath, Falk just flung himself under the sheets. With any luck this would all calm down with a five hour pass-out. Problem was, he couldn’t make himself sleep, no matter if he wanted to or not.

Falk was stuck staring at the wall, sweating and breathing weird. His sheets felt strange laid across his body, like they were somehow a lot heavier. He idly scratched at his arm, an itch developing across his entire right side. He could tell that scratching at it was just eventually going to send him mad, however, leaving it be would be worse. Whatever he had caught was going to be a right bitch to get through.

He closed his eyes with another grumble, nestling into his pillow as if it would help the situation. Objectively, he hated everything about this. He hated being sick, being useless, or even just feeling off. Right now, he felt all three. And it sucked. His mind also wouldn’t leave him alone, which was a right pain. He certainly wasn’t asking his mind to go in the directions it was, but nevertheless.

Attila’s voice echoed in the back of Falk’s mind, sounding increasingly sensual every second. Falk didn’t know why, didn’t want to know why, and definitely wanted it to cease. Didn’t look like it was going to, though. Whatever sickness this was was definitely getting to him.

Falk’s gaze drifted to his liquor cabinet. Yea, if this got much worse he was definitely going to need a good stiff drink. It probably wouldn’t help his sickness, but it would make him feel like he was doing something about it, even if that thing was bad. Not that he would care once he was drunk. Besides, the only ones in the house were his pack, it wasn’t like he could do too much damage.   
Fuck it. Falk hauled himself up, walking over to the cabinet and grabbing one of the fuller bottles of Jaeger. If he was going to drink the entire thing, which was likely, he might as well do it with something he liked the taste of. He sighed, padding back to his bed and sitting down. Staring at the bottle wouldn’t do much, so he cracked it open, put it to his lips and swung his head back. The black liquid burned down his throat, a pleasant feeling on any day. A few seconds passed before Falk stopped pouring it down himself, moving the bottle away from his face with a hollow sounding cough. He shook his head, screwing the lid back on. He wasn’t going to get too drunk right off the bat, he liked to think he wasn’t that stupid.

The warmth of immediate tipsy-ness radiated in his chest, slightly concerning since he’d only had a fifth of the bottle. It did make him feel a little better though, which is what mattered. Falk took another swig, maybe if he drank enough the echoes in his head would stop. He didn’t need to be thinking about his Alpha like that. Of course he was devoted to Attila absolutely as an Alpha but, all this shit in his head would just lead to something fucked up, Falk knew it.

He was just off in his own little world for a little, slowly draining the Jaeger like it was a thing to do. About ⅔ of the bottle in, there was a knock at the door. Falk nearly jumped out of his skin, sending himself into a coughing fit as his mouth was mostly full of alcohol when the knock happened.

“You alright in there?” Oh great, it was Attila. Falk tried to get his coughing under control, failing miserably. He groaned, falling backwards into his bed, causing the world to spin an awful lot faster than it should have. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. He barely managed to drawl out a drunken “Yes” in response. Something told him his Alpha wouldn’t believe him.

“... Lowed in?” Falk didn’t catch half of what Attila said but he knew. He was silent for a few seconds, debating if it was a bad idea or not.

“ Yea.” He was going to regret that, probably. He didn’t have time to take it back as his door slowly slid open. Something kicked in the back of his mind when Attila stepped into his room. Falk didn’t know what that thing was, but he didn’t like that he liked it. Before he trusted himself to talk, he grabbed the Jaeger off the floor and downed what was left in the bottle.

Attila wasn’t sure about the sight that greeted him, it was certainly concerning whatever it was. Falk was very shirtless, hair disheveled, bed a mess, and he was obviously off his face drunk. The drunkenness was enough to spark concern, coupled with everything else, Attila had half a mind to drag him to the hospital. “I know I look like shit, you don’t have to say it.” Falk mumbled before Attila could comment.

“You look worse than that, honestly. You don’t usually drink when you’re sick, what’s wrong?” Falk didn’t want to admit that at that point, Attila’s voice was doing a lot to him. He could feel a prickly static across most of his body just from hearing his Alpha speak, not entirely unpleasant, but that was half the problem. Falk let out a shuddering groan that he prayed didn’t sound sexual, he knew it didn’t sound as pained as he was aiming for, however.

“Everything’s happening too much. My head’s going places it shouldn’t and I’m fucked if I know why” Falk sounded barely coherent, the slur of a full bottle of Jaeger tinging his voice with a mumbling drawl. He didn’t want to make eye contact with Attila lest his already frazzled mind give him more that he didn’t want to think about. He settled for staring at a point behind Attila’s chest.

Attila sighed, almost at a loss of how to help. Usually when Falk ended up this drunk, the best idea was to just stick with him until he sobered up a little or passed out. It didn’t look like either of those things were going to happen. Well, it did look like Falk was barely holding onto consciousness, but Attila could tell he wasn’t letting himself fall for some reason. He trilled, stepping over and picking up the empty Jaeger bottle from Falk’s hand. “You’ve drunk enough, ok? No use nursing an empty bottle.” He chuckled quietly, gently running his free hand across Falk’s hair as he stood back up.

Falk surpassed most of the sounds he wanted to make as his Alpha touched him, managing only to let out a hollow choked cough. His heart skipped several beats, dropping it to somewhere near the centre of the earth. He flicked his eyes up to look at his Alpha, who was looking increasingly concerned. Falk didn’t trust himself to talk, especially not with all the lingering sensations prickling across his body. “You’re sick as a plague victim, aren’t you?” Yes, keep believing that, instead of knowing that half of Falk was screaming for him to jump his Alpha.

“I feel weird…” Falk muttered meekly. Weird was one way to put it, and it was the way he was going to put it. There was no way in hell he was going to admit that what he wanted to do was get absolutely dominated in any way possible. Definitely not admitting that. Least of all admitting that to his Alpha. Falk looked away from Attila’s face again, not that it helped the feeling of Attila’s concerned gaze boring into his soul.

Attila had never seen Falk so drained and meek looking, almost in a submissive fashion. He shook his head, forcing that particular image out of his mind. He didn’t need the thought of coming onto Falk bother him while he was trying to help. The image even coming into mind raised all sorts of questions, none of which Attila was sure he wanted the answer to. “Anything any of us can do? You clearly need someone to keep and eye on you at least.” Attila shifted slightly, his concern for Falk outranking the rest of his mind that said it was getting warm all a sudden.

Unaware of Attila’s plight in favour of his own, Falk nestled further into his bed, trilling unassuredly. “I don’t think anything is going to help how shit I feel, Attila.” Again, mostly slurred, and now slightly muffled by the pillow. Really, he felt the opposite of shit, he felt warm and fuzzy and tingly in a way that he’d never had before. Didn’t mean he was happy about it. Also didn’t help that most of the sensation was travelling straight to his crotch. That really wasn’t helping in the least.

Attila sighed, mentally going through a checklist and calendar. He was very quickly aware of the only two possibilities that could make sense. And in those two possibilities, only one lined up with how Falk looked and felt. Oh. He pursed his lips, suddenly at a true loss for words. Well, this was going to be fun. “I know something that might, but in your state I don’t know if it’s possible.” He’d done many things as an Alpha, helping a Were through their first heat was not one of them.

Falk shuddered in his bed, part of his mind coming to the conclusion that Attila knew what was going on, the rest of his mind painfully aware of the solution that was just implied. Having moved to hug his pillow to his head, he shifted his head up to properly look at Attila, a sort of reserved pleading clouding his eyes. The part of him that didn’t want to do this was getting smaller by the moment. “I don’t know what to do…” He almost whispered, tears brought on by something he couldn’t place beaded at the corners of his eyes. He was trembling as Attila knelt down beside his bed.

“I do. But are you ok with me doing it?” Attila kept his voice soft, as desperate as Falk probably felt, it’d still be wrong to try and egg him into anything. Consent was important, even during a heat, probably even more so really. Attila was painfully aware of how drunk Falk was, he could virtually feel the air of alcohol seeping off the young Omega. He could also smell just how far into heat he was, if he wasn’t on the suppressants Attila was sure he would have done something very bad by this point.

“I don’t think I care.” Falk shuddered again. “My body’s been screaming for me to jump someone all morning. What’s the difference if you’re coming to me?” He could feel each word leaving his mouth like he was selling his soul. For all he could stomp it down, Falk was never that good at keeping his wanted, or unwanted, desires at bay. And arguably, if anyone was going to do this the Alpha of his own pack was probably one of the safer options.

Attila quickly internally debated whether that was a good enough response or not. He knew it was Falk’s way of saying yes without actually saying it because he was embarrassed, but he still needed to check. “You sure?”

Falk buried his head in his pillow briefly, trying to force the blush away. It didn’t work, so he just went back to his previous head position. “Y-Yea…” He could feel his heart rate go all over the place from nerves, embarrassment, and arousal. As soon as he said it it was too late to take it back, his body had already accepted that it was happening. His senses went nuts, a wave of static working up his body faster than he could try and suppress it. At that point, there wasn’t really any point with hiding how worked up he was. 

Attila smiled, pushing himself off the floor and lifting Falk up from lying down so he could sit beside him. Without really thinking, Falk nestled himself into his Alpha’s side, it just felt natural. He could feel his anxiety dulling with the knowledge that it really was happening and there wasn’t much he could do. Attila was also radiating a calming vibe, confident, nurturing, Falk felt he wasn’t going to be hurt. Quite the opposite, really.

Falk found himself leaning into the kisses Attila was starting to dot into his hair, a quiet purr beginning to rumble in his chest. He certainly wasn’t going to complain if Attila was going to be sensual about the entire thing. The quietest of moans slid from his mouth when he felt Attila’s nails drag through his hair and down his neck, he even tilted his head away so that it was easier to get at his neck. His eyes had closed, temporarily lost in the pleasantness, shuddering as he felt his Alpha’s purr against his neck, gasping at each kiss and gentle nip.

Attila smiled into Falk’s neck, his purr growing louder as he set to work. Any were in heat was already highly sensitive, an Omega doubly so. But that meant he had to be somewhat more careful, the last thing he needed was Falk getting hurt. He was revelling in the tiny gasps and chitters he was ushering from the Were, signs he was doing ok at least.

Falk’s purr resonated deep in his chest, each new nip and caress fueling his deep seeded desire to take it. The first real bite caught him off guard, eliciting a somewhat louder gasping moan; he felt he could collapse right there and then. He was going to have marks for days after this, he just knew it. Attila gave an inquisitive trill into his neck, not really pausing his ministrations at all. Falk managed a gasp-y “It’s ok” before devolving back into quiet stuttered moans.

He could feel Attila smiling against his neck, biting down, breaking skin. As much as he tried otherwise, Falk couldn’t help his tremble, shivering from the feelings radiating from the nape of his neck. At some point he had grabbed onto one of Attila’s wrists, shakily digging his nails in in reflex. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to strain against his pants any more than he was, but, he seemed to keep proving himself wrong every second.

“Sh-Shit…” Falk managed to squeak out, jerking his head backwards as Attila found just the right spot to bite down on. Attila’s chuckle didn’t help none, certainly didn’t help that he immediately started focussing in that one area; Falk was sure it would drive him mad, especially if his dick had anything to say about it. His trembling hand clutched near desperately at his Alpha’s wrist, a small part of him wondering how he hadn’t managed to draw blood yet.

He went limp, freely allowing Attila to guide him into lying down, somewhat thankful he didn’t have to concentrate on keeping himself upright any longer. He could feel the bed adjusting to the change in position but, it wasn’t like it was going to break. It was built for a werewolf, it could withstand a lot. Now that Attila was pretty much above him, Falk felt a lot meeker than a few seconds ago, his mind quickly telling him that he had been wanting this exact situation for some time now. There wasn’t time to unpack that particular thought process, not when most of Falk’s mind was taken up with how dominating Attila looked at that exact moment.

Attila’s kind eyes were undermined somewhat by his sly grin, gaze flickering down Falk’s prone form beneath him. The younger Were was blushing furiously, trying to hide as much into the pillows as he could manage, his embarrassed expression drawing attention away from the perverse tenting of his pants. Falk himself was suffering through his mind going a thousand miles and hour, every tremble ending up straight at his dick, and every glance up at Attila sending an increasingly clear message through his brain. He didn’t have time to debate his own sexuality with himself, not when he was distracted by the swell of Attila’s purr or the nails tracing patterns down his torso.

Falk chittered as Attila’s hands came to rest at his waistband, he knew what his Alpha was waiting for, he would never do such a thing without permission. He let out a severely stuttered breath, forcing himself to look up at Attila, who just raised a single eyebrow. Fucking hell, Falk nearly finished on the spot, a nervous, but not entirely rejecting giggle making its way past his lips. He swallowed the lump stuck in his throat, very suddenly hating himself for how desperate he was sure to sound. “P… Please…” Yea, that was about as desperate as he thought. 

Oh gods be merciful for the smirk painted across Attila’s lips. He shifted so that he wasn’t having to hold himself up quite as much, leaning most of his weight on one arm and relying mostly on his core to keep himself nicely hovered over Falk. Falk’s breath had definitely quickened, now almost categorically refusing to make eye contact as his dick was agonisingly traced around. He was pretty sure he could finish from a feather’s touch by this point, his pants were certainly soaked whatever the case.

“I can stop if you need me to, you know that?” Ever the worrying bastard even this far into whatever the hell this was. As much as Falk appreciated the concern, there really wasn’t a turning back point by now.

“N-No… I need this.” Ending up more a whimper than a sentence, Falk lay an arm across his forehead, feeling the near overpowering blush on his cheeks. He could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, betraying his emotional turmoil. Trying to blink them away did nothing, they were going to stick around whether he wanted or not. He didn’t really care by this point.

A gasping moan dragged from his lips as he felt Attila actually touch him, running his hand along the fabric covering his shaft. His dick twitched at the attention and he arched his back slightly, an all too pleasant pulsing radiating through his torso. As if Falk’s trembling could get any worse, he shakily grabbed his pillow with his spare arm, quickly burying his face in it. Every breath was punctuated by a pleasured gasp, short moans making their way into the mix as well. Attila had very quickly set into a slow gentle rhythm, not wanting to overstimulate Falk any more than he already was.

A giant exercise in willpower, what he had left of it anyhow, Falk forced himself to keep his hips still, as much as he wanted to buck them like some sort of whore. There was no reason for this, Attila was fully aware of how worked up he was, was currently jerking him off, and probably didn’t care if Falk started bucking like a beast. Maybe to preserve what little dignity remained, Falk honestly didn’t know. He was already squirming under his Alpha’s touch, his pants an absolute wet mess. Whatever dignity he had had gone away with the last swig of alcohol he took when Attila originally entered his room.

“A-Ah… Ahh~” Falk had pretty much given up on being quiet, not that he had tried to begin with. The walls of the house were thick anyhow, there wasn’t any hearing him. His head lulled to the side facing Attila, suddenly not really caring that he was being seen as he was; he kept his eyes closed though, afraid to show the amount of lust glazing over them.

As much as Attila kept telling himself that this was only to help Falk get through the heat, he had to admit, the Omega lying beneath him, gasping in sensual pleasure, his face a picture of contentedness, was pretty damn enjoyable. He certainly wouldn’t complain about having to help him a few more times. His purr swelled in his torso, the hand working on Falk sliding underneath the fabric of his pants, eliciting a sharp gasp from the prone Were. The gasp morphed into a prolonged moan, helped along by Attila’s hand gliding along Falk’s shaft.

Falk was purring almost as loud as he was moaning, the two sounds blending into each other more and more by the second. If the warmth spreading through his torso was to say anything, he was maddeningly close. His eyes slit open, glassy, clouded by lust. Sweat glistened on his forehead, dampening his hair ever so slightly; his short and sharp moans slowly melding together. He danced a knife edge, a minute moment of doubt crossing his mind.

“A..A-Attila..” There was no getting the rest of the sentence out, Falk realised about half a second too late. He jerked with the sudden expulsion, the sensations reaching their peak and pile-driving him out the top window of a ten storey building. He really didn’t have a choice but to ride it out for what he swore was a lot longer time than he usually had to deal with. Shuddering, and rapidly devolving into a chittery limp puddle, Falk was thankful that Attila had taken his hand out of his pants as soon as he tipped over. He guessed he would be shouting an awful lot louder if his Alpha had decided to keep going.

Falk trembled quite violently through the few aftershocks that wracked his body, a thousand things very rapidly dashing through his mind as the reality of what he just did crashed down on him. His first priority was to try and get his stuttered panting under control, then he could start unpacking his slowly gathering thoughts and anxieties. He buried himself in Attila’s chest as soon as he felt the other Were lie down beside him, as much as his anxiety was screaming for him to kick Attila out, he was afraid of what would happen if he was left alone. The pathological familiarity of his Alpha was pretty much all that was suppressing Falk’s rapidly looming panic attack.

His breathing had settled into gasping intervals, sounding more like hollow coughs than anything. Nothing felt real, Falk was pretty sure he was floating somewhere above the atmosphere, most of his thoughts sounding like distant, disconnected echoes in another person’s voice. He blinked away the few tears that were forming in his eyes, he didn’t want to do that. His body and mind were screaming for him to cry and shout and break down, he didn’t want to. It did look like he wasn’t going to be given a choice in the matter, though.

“Falk?” 

“D-Don’t talk.” He managed to whimper. “Please…” Already barely clinging to sanity, Falk was certain he would start bawling like a newborn pup if Attila asked if he was ok. Of course he wasn’t ok, why would he be ok at current? Falk didn’t know, and he knew that Attila was smart enough to know that. 

The adrenaline crash was bringing a very fast set hangover with it, the building headache pounding him like a warhammer. He had closed his eyes again, buried into Attila about as far as physically possible, praying to calm down at least somewhat; it wasn’t going to happen but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and force it.

Falk needed a lot in that moment; he needed to be left alone, to be coddled and fussed over, to re-blast himself drunk again, a lot needed to happen and none of it could happen in conjunction. For now, shakily panting and clinging onto the fabric of his Alpha’s shirt would have to suffice. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

Falk found the comfort of the other were’s presence intoxicating. The little circles he was tracing into Falk’s side as he held him providing a much needed distraction from his own thoughts. Thoughts ranging from how sticky his pants were, to questions about what would happen in the long run because of what just happened. He didn’t like any of the answers he was coming up with.

“What the hell just happened…” Not looking for, or even wanting an answer, it was more a statement of betrayed distress. Falk forced his breathing to slow, leading his heart to feel less like it was going to burst out of his chest and less like he was going to somehow shake through the earth. Eventually, he let his hands fall from Attila’s shirt, falling limp and exhausted under his Alpha’s arm. Attila tilted his head slightly with a short trill, inviting, but not forcing Falk to talk.

Falk was silent a moment, pushing away from Attila slightly so he could actually look at him. “I don’t know if that was a good idea or not.” It was possible to speak above a whisper, but he didn’t want to. Maybe a quiet mumble if he manage to find more of his voice, but that was about it.

“Very few things are a good idea during a season. A Were tends to lose their moral ground and their care for what happens in the immediate future. What’s important is damage control.”

“What if the damage is internal?” 

Attila sighed, suppressing his immediate reaction to pull Falk closer to him to try and mother it away. “Then you do the best you can to control or figure it out. It’s best not to isolate yourself either.” Falk pulled a face, knowing immediately that he probably wasn’t going to do that. The rest of the pack didn’t need to deal with his shit, especially if he was the one that got himself into it. Whatever he got himself in, he could usually get himself out again. Most of the time, maybe.

Falk groaned, sinking himself into his bed. Given any time to think about this would send him down paths he really didn’t need, being around the rest of his pack would probably do the same thing. He exhaled, glancing up at Attila briefly as he moved back to hugging his pillow. “I need a shower…” He mumbled

“Could help. Help you feel a little cleaner, at least.” Attila said, pushing himself upright. It was almost a cue to leave, but knowing Falk, and himself, he didn’t want to leave the young were to his own devices.

“Cleaner, yes. Better… The jury’s still out.” Falk made no move to actually get up to go to the bathroom, his mind somewhat stubbornly deciding that his bed was the better option of the two. It did have a point, if he stayed in bed, he didn’t have to go out into the corridor where it was possible for other members of the pack to see him. Attila didn’t matter, it wasn’t like the Were could see him in any worse condition at this point.

“Come on, then. At least if you’re clean you won’t feel quite as miserable.” Attila couldn’t know that what he was saying wasn’t true. Yes, Falk would probably feel less gross, not being in a pool of his own mess, but that wasn’t to say he’d feel any better mentally. Either way, it didn’t look like his Alpha was going to take “no” for an answer. And he really did need that shower.

Despite the onset exhaustion that Falk’s body was desperately trying to hammer into him, he forced himself up until he had followed Attila in standing up. The change from horizontal to vertical in his current state gave him a bit of a sickening shake up, but at least he didn’t collapse straight to the floor like he thought he would. Standing up did make the mess in his pants completely obvious now that he wasn’t half covered with a sheet, which would have mortified Falk had his level of embarrassment not launched over its peak into a kind of skittish zen. Right now, he was less concerned about how he looked, and more concerned about any questions that the rest of the pack might ask.

Attila waited for Falk to wrap his towel around his waist before opening the door, quickly sticking his head out to make sure none of the others were upstairs, or at least not in the corridor. The corridor itself was empty, however; now that the heavy door had been opened, Attila could hear something going on downstairs that was best not to think about at that point. “Well, I don’t think anyone else is going to see you, or at this point even care what happened.” Dry humour was never Attila’s strong point but joking around would probably achieve nothing more than an even more upset Falk.

Falk tilted his head but otherwise didn’t ask. As long as he was in the clear he honestly didn’t give a shit by this point. Even so, he did duck into the bathroom a few doors down remarkably quickly. As he closed the door behind him, Falk felt the tension holding in his shoulders dissipate, nearly collapsing from his feet. The moment of not being in direct company of his Alpha lifting a significant something from his mind. He sighed, violently ruffling his own hair and shaking his head with a groan. There was naught in the bathroom than a shower, toilet, sink, and his own thoughts. He still didn’t want to dwell on anything his mind was screaming at him, dumping his towel on the floor and his pants to the side. Reaching into the shower, Falk turned the nobs up as hot as they would go, if nothing else, he could burn away what was bothering him.

Not wanting to piss in the shower like some sort of animal, ironically, he stood at the toilet until he was finished, quickly ducking into the shower as soon as he’d flushed. The water briefly sizzled against his skin, almost a bit too much. Falk turned the cold water on just a little bit, just enough to not completely cook himself. It was still likely to burn, just not quite as much. He tilted his head back, letting the water pelt down on his chest for a while, the sound of rushing water providing a backdrop to his inner monologue. None of which was anything he particularly wanted to hear.

Now with all the time in the world to unpack what had happened over the last half hour or so, Falk found he didn’t want to do any of it. Whatever happened, he still needed to “face them in the morning” so to speak. There wasn’t really a way to avoid the Alpha of your own pack, apart from leaving, which he really didn’t want to do. He let out a slow dying noise that he hoped was covered by the sound of pelting water. Hitting his head against the shower wall would probably do jack shit, as much as it would be somewhat cathartic, really any form of doing himself some grief would feel cathartic, albeit bad for him. He didn’t want to delve down that path, at least not immediately.

Falk groaned, throwing his head under the water briefly, furiously scrubbing at his hair. He didn’t need those types of thoughts milling around his head, much less milling around at times of stress. For what little it was worth, Falk didn’t think he needed any sorts of thoughts milling around in his head, ones that would inevitably connect to abject failure and fuckery were dragging themselves to the forefront while anything useful just wasn’t there. It would be much easier if his inner dialogue was a series of flatlines, and about as much use. He didn’t want to think about anything because that usually lead to overthinking whatever the issue was. Not that it wouldn’t happen, he just wouldn’t be very happy with himself.

He could virtually feel Attila’s concern through the door, his Alpha being nothing short of a mother hen with an anxiety problem. He supposed he had been in the shower for quite a while, doing little more than turning the bathroom into a makeshift sauna and drowning out everything with the sound of rushing water. Unfortunately, what hadn’t been drowned out was Falk’s feeling of dread that something bad was going to come of this whole mess. It wasn’t clear what that bad thing was, but it was most definitely going to happen, according to Falk’s anxiety, anyhow.

Not wanting to see just how long it would take to get second degree burns from a shower, Falk turned the water significantly cooler for a while until his body felt less like it was going to experience heatstroke. As soon as that was done, he turned the water off completely, stepping out of the shower before the existential dread could settle back in. He dreaded exiting the bathroom, but it wasn’t like he could stay in it forever, much as he might have liked to. Quickly towelling himself off, he wrapped the towel around his waist and picked his pants up, balling them as best he could to hide what stained them.

The bathroom itself was incredibly fogged up, something Falk was thankful for as he didn’t need to look at his own stupid reflection in the clouded mirror. Honestly, seeing his own face would probably do nothing more than illicit a strong feeling that he needed to punch himself, so it was nice that he didn’t have to make himself deal with that. One brief and final suppressed groan, and Falk forced himself out of the bathroom door, not particularly caring that Attila had been waiting outside the whole time.

Attila gave an inquisitive and concerned trill as Falk stepped into the corridor, apparently it was painfully obvious how frazzled he was. It was met with a somewhat defeated sigh, the younger were opting to avoid eye contact in favour of trying to seem like he wasn’t staring off into space. These were mostly futile efforts but, neither of them expected any different.

“Any better?” Attila broke the silence, trying to keep most of the anxiety out of his voice. A grimace pulled at the corner of Falk’s mouth as he debated whether lying and saying yes would somehow convince himself that he wasn’t lying. Objectively, yes, he was slightly better, or at least cleaner. However, the gut-wrenching anxiety and overthinking hadn’t stopped during or after the shower.

“I don’t know” Is what he managed to force himself to say. “I want to say yes, but I don’t want to lie to you or myself. I’m still not sure what that even was, if that was a Were thing or a me thing or…” He trailed off into a groan, anxiously dragging a hand through his damp hair. He knew it was a Were thing, of course it was. He knew full well what heat seasons were, well, at least now he did. It was just new to know what it felt like.

“That was definitely a Were thing. Usually you only have to deal with them once or twice a year, though. Unfortunately, since this is your first one, it’s not going to be great for about a week.” Kind of an understatement there, really. Heats were comparable to a really shit flu, just with the added urge to fuck or get fucked. Wasn’t much relief from feeling like shit during the annual ordeal other than getting it over with. And even then, it stuck around sometimes.

“Great…” Falk sounded far more annoyed than he was distressed. Navigating sudden maturity was one thing, having a fair amount of his internal truths shattered and questioned was another. And really, standing in the corridor still damp from a post-coitus shower with the one that made him question everything probably wasn’t helping. 

Attila sighed, a reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You will get used to it in time. C’mon, let’s get you back into something other than a bathtowel, ok?” He gestured in the vague direction of Falk’s room, letting the Omega take lead and following with him. Falk got halfway through pushing his door open, stopping momentarily to have yet another debate with himself. He sighed at Attila’s inquisitive hum, trying to force a string of words together.

“I gotta think about things, Attila. I’m going to try to pass out and clear my head of this mess.” It was somewhat difficult to keep the distress out of his voice, or at least have it not sound like he was blaming Attila for what happened. It wasn’t his Alpha’s fault in the least that Falk was still kind of freaking out, that was all on him. He needed to have a great huge discussion with himself and it really wasn’t one that he thought would ever come up.

“Whatever you need to do. We’ll all be here if or when you need us, ok?” Attila knew a cue to leave when he heard it. He was capable of shoving most of his mothering to the back when he needed to, it wasn’t like his pack were mere pups. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to worry, it was part of the entire job description. But Falk clearly wanted to sort this shit out on his own, or at least try to. 

A genuine smile twitched at the corner of Falk’s mouth. A small part of him warmed with the thought that this mess would probably turn out fine, it was just going to be painful until then. He managed to muster a quiet “thanks”, pushing his door the rest of the way and ducking into his room. Trying his best to not slam the door closed in Attila’s face, Falk gently pushed the door closed behind him, confident that his Alpha would leave him be.


	3. First Nesting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falk accidentally wakes up in Attila's nest. Uh oh...

Immediately upon waking up, details were kind of blurry. The sheets felt different, the pillows slightly firmer, the weight of the blankets was off. Falk instinctively glanced to where the bedside table was supposed to be; there was one there but the digital clock on top of it definitely wasn’t his. It read about 2am. Questions as to why he was waking up at such an hour arose in his mind, but were mostly overshadowed by the more pressing question of where the hell was he?

He wasn’t in his private nest, that much was glaringly obvious. It still smelled like the pack den, so at least he was at home; clearly in one of the nests. Briefly he thought he was in one of the spare rooms, but the scent of other Weres was too strong to be one of the unused nests. Or rather, one other Were. 

Falk bolted upright, barely suppressing the reflex of a mad scramble, but he couldn’t quite help the vocalization. His head whipped around to the other side of the double bed, the still form of a sleeping Attila quickly confirming what panic had briefly screamed. Well fuck. He had somehow passed out in his Alpha’s bed; and for whatever reason, he hadn’t been kicked out before Attila went to sleep himself. With everything that had been happening, Falk wasn’t sure if he even wanted an answer as to why.

Attila shifting and readjusting in his sleep caused Falk to freeze for a moment, not that he was moving all that much to begin with. The tension fell from his shoulders a little when it was clear that his Alpha wasn’t going to wake up, at least not at that moment. It was oddly comforting to see the other Were passed out in the same bed he was in, even if it was incredibly concerning that it definitely wasn’t his bed, but his Alpha’s. 

Letting the breath that he didn’t know he was holding go, Falk dropped his head with a quiet groan. He didn’t know if it was wise to head back to his own nest at this point in the morning, but staying in his Alpha’s bed was strange now that he was aware he was doing it. Several things crossed his mind, mostly that it was 2am, and Attila’s door was fairly loud. He didn’t really have a hope of leaving the nest quietly, which turned into a very convincing argument against trying to get up. 

Falk also felt downright lethargic. Against most of his will, his arms folded back until he was lying down again. Attila’s bed was surprisingly comfortable, it was too easy to nestle back into the pillows and probably fall back asleep. The main wrench in the falling asleep department was that it wasn’t his bed, it was his Alpha’s; and Attila was sleeping right fucking there next to him. Falk was pretty sure there was something fundamentally wrong with that concept, but he didn’t feel like waking him up to ask.

There wasn’t much time to debate any of that however, as the fight against passing out again became an increasingly uphill ordeal. Any other time, he admitted to himself that he might have fought a little harder, but frankly at 2am, staying awake was the last thing Falk wanted to do. One, two, three blinks, nestled into the pillow that wasn’t his and he was out like a light once again.

The less ungodly hours of the morning rolled along, rousing Falk in a much more agreeable manner. Through the dreary haze of reawakening, he briefly forgot he wasn’t in his own nest; only briefly though. Not really wanting to acknowledge it, he pushed himself off the pillow, hoping that Attila was already downstairs and he didn’t have to deal with that bullshit.

“Sleep ok?” Fuck. There went that idea. Falk groaned, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm. Turning himself around, he saw that Attila wasn’t facing him. Rather, his Alpha was preoccupied with making sure his hair didn’t look like such a morning mess. Falk honestly didn’t know if it would have been better or worse if Attila had been looking at him.

“Well I slept, at any rate.” Tinged with that morning creaky quality, Falk hoped his voice didn’t sound as anxious as he felt. 

“Good enough.” Attila chuckled, running a brush through his hair. He spun on his heels to face Falk as he finished fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “You were out cold halfway through talking last night. It felt wrong to disturb you if you needed to rest that badly.” Falk pulled a face for a moment. “I probably did. My sleep’s been all over the fucking place.” ‘Not that it usually isn’t’, he added mentally. Now that they were both awake, being in Attila’s bed was even weirder. It felt nice, and Falk wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Really not wanting to dwell on that particular thought train, he shifted slightly; quietly thankful that since he had passed out, he was still wearing pants. 

“Well at the very least you got some element of rest last night. You’ve been staying awake far too long lately, honestly. It was getting concerning.” Falk tried to ignore the fluff in his Alpha’s voice, failing quite miserably. He pulled another face, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. There wasn’t really anything he could say to defend himself against what Attila was saying; his Alpha was correct. Mostly. Falk usually downplayed the few hours of the night where he struggled against his own head in trying to get to sleep.

“I can probably blame it on trying to get used to all this shit. It’s jarring at the least and world shaking at worst.” That was about as well as Falk could put it, shoving himself off the bed. He dragged a hand through his hair, trying to get it into some sort of order; it was debatable if it worked or not but at least his hair wasn’t peacock levels of awful. 

“It’ll take a while for things to settle for you. Everything has dumped itself on you within a few weeks… That’d take a lot out of any Were, really.” Slight understatement by Attila but nonetheless true. Falk was surprisingly well adjusted given the circumstances. Well, apart from the season thing; but, that seemed to have calmed down a bit, thankfully.

“Never thought playing catch up would bring this much bullshit…” Falk mumbled, still trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. Attila trilled sympathetically. “But you’re catching up.” Whatever comfort the words were supposed to bring were overshadowed by Falk’s persistent overthinking. Intense pain, weird social instincts, and hellish emotional rides were going to be part of his norm now whether he liked it or not.

What Falk found weird was that apart from the 2am wake up, he had slept better than he had for about a week and a half. Another thing he didn’t really want to think about it. He would probably have to at some point but, Falk was nothing if not stubborn about this shit. “C’mon. Let’s get downstairs, the others don’t need to worry.” Attila’s voice jolted Falk out his thoughts. He just nodded, briefly shaking the worry out of his head. Pretty much all this new bullshit could be explained by the fact that he was a proper Were now. There wasn’t a reason to think too deep on some things, right?

Falk pushed his thought train to the backburner, following Attila into the corridor and down the stairs to the main area of the den. Matthew glanced up at them from a thick looking stack of documents he had been poring over, chirruping to gain Attila’s attention. “The pack along our south-western border wants these negotiation terms by Thursday. There’s nothing too ridiculous in their terms but there’s still an hour or two in this stack at least.”

“Get them into the study. We’ll sort them out soon enough.” Attila waved a slightly dismissive hand; he’d never been particularly enamoured of territory battles, but he knew they had to be done. It was just how it worked. Matthew chirruped an affirmative, quickly stacking the papers into a folder and moving to chuck them into the study room.

Falk must have looked about as on edge as he felt, if Matthew’s passing inquisitive glance at him was any indicator. He reflexively swallowed the slight lump in his throat and elected to ignore the growing anxiety chiselling at the back of his mind. It was debatable whether the pack would actually care or not if they found out he’d accidentally slept with Attila, but Falk couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still something wrong about it. He quickly shook his head with a sort of non-denominal trill, dragging a hand through his hair to try and pass it off as still trying to wake up; not entirely unbelievable considering his sleeping habits.

A lot of uncertainties plagued his mind but the one thing that he did know was that he probably needed a cup of coffee, and being in the kitchen was better than standing gormlessly at the bottom of the stairwell like a stag caught in one of Roel’s traps. Attila had already made his way across the common area, thrown the kettle on, and was clinking away in the kitchen grabbing mugs and the little container that had the instant coffee in it. A smile twitched at the corner of Falk’s lips, a small voice in the back of his mind fluffily commenting on how domestic it seemed. Falk shook his head again to halt those thought processes in their tracks before it got weird.

Making his way across the common area, he stepped into the kitchen just as the kettle went off; brushing past Attila to grab the sugar and milk. Falk didn’t take his coffee as sickeningly sweet as some of his packmates, but having it straight was just a bit too bitter for his tastes. He tried to ignore his randomly racing heart, avoiding looking at his Alpha while he fixed his coffee up but still responding to the concerned chirrup with a quiet trill of his own.

Maybe Attila thought that a brief swell of a purr would be reassuring to the skittish Omega, but all it did was make Falk’s heart skip several beats. Falk just bit the inside of his lip slightly and tried to not let his mind wander. These efforts were dashed by Attila pointedly leaning against him for a few seconds while grabbing his own coffee; an entirely standard gesture from the Alpha, being such a tactile sort, but it really wasn’t helping Falk’s frazzled thoughts.

Trying to suppress the slight tremble that had started in his hands was harder than Falk would care to admit, but at least it wasn’t overly visible.

“... You alright?” Or, maybe it was. Damn it. Falk forced himself to relax for a second, letting a hopefully reassuring smile twitch at his lips. It was probably somewhat undermined by everything else that was making him look about half a second away from bolting, but it was something.

“It’s nothing. Just shaky, apparently…” And a heart rate going lightspeed, a voice in his head refusing to shut up, his brain rapidly rewiring itself from the ground up to accommodate for his late onset maturity, and the background of the intense existential crisis that had been going on since his virgin transformation. Other than that, yes, he was fine. Something told him Attila wouldn’t believe him…

Attila pursed his lips, confirming that he wasn’t having a single bar of it. Even if he wasn’t already blessed with the Alpha’s intuition, he wasn’t an idiot. Mostly. But, he also knew that it usually took something approaching divine intervention for Falk to openly admit if something was bothering him. Alcohol helped, for lack of a better term, but Attila absolutely refused to implement such methods with any degree of force or even at all.

He gave a resigned sounding chuff, his soft gaze brimming with concern as he glanced up to Falk’s eye level. The Omega was quite pointedly looking basically anywhere else. He let his eye line flick away, sparing Falk from the pressure to return eye contact, a soft twitch of an unreadable expression twitching at his mouth briefly. “If you say so…”

Falk felt a slight pang of guilt pull at him for a moment. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to seek his Alpha’s council, but, he just didn’t feel ready for that sort of conversation yet. Besides, he still felt a bit shit from the residuals of his heat cycle, so deep serious conversation probably wasn’t the best idea right now. Just as he was opening his mouth to apologise, there was an impatient sounding bark from inside the study; effectively saving Falk from himself, but still sending him near through the roof.

Attila couldn’t help his jerk of laughter, dropping his head down with a cough to stop himself. He let out an amused yet slightly exasperated sigh, exaggeratingly dropping his shoulders and picking up his coffee mug. “The paperwork is being loud…” He chuckled. “And it is a call I must answer. You know where to find me, ok?” Falk glanced back at his Alpha just in time to catch his affectionate squint, which he couldn’t help but reflect.

Falk trilled an affirmative, picking up his own mug to walk out the kitchen with Attila, but turning sideways to head into the lounge rather than the study. Charles was already occupying one of the couches, a mess of tabs and windows that only he could navigate open on his overly secure laptop. 

Falk neglected to alert the Eta before placing his coffee on the coffee table and carelessly collapsing onto the couch beside him, but he didn’t need to. The Greywolf was more than used to this routine of his, going so far as to lift his hand off the keyboard to briefly scritch at Falk’s hair when the Omega fell sideways to nestle into his leg for a moment.  
While he had intended to remain awake, his 2am panic was still bearing down on him. He felt Charles quirk a questioning eyebrow at him to which he just gave a shrug, knowing that the Eta wouldn’t dig for elaboration. Besides, he was passed out by the time his shoulders dropped back down again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two fucking idiots I swear to god...


	4. An Inconvenient Discovery During Casual Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew knows more about Alpha-type werewolves than Attila does.

Matthew paused his scribbling for a moment, glancing up at his Alpha bemusedly. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?” He was only half paying attention to the small talk, having most of his focus be on the territory documents; but he really needed to make sure he heard properly.

Attila, slightly taken aback by the absolute confusion in Matthew’s voice, tentatively repeated himself. “Falk… Slept in my nest last night?” There must have been something wrong with that, given the expression the Beta pulled. 

“He slept in your nest?” A nod. “In your bed?” Another nod. “And… You were ok with that?” Attila tilted his head, looking more like a confused pup than a seasoned Alpha. He wasn’t quite sure what Matthew was trying to get at. There wasn’t any reason coming to mind for what he did to be a bad thing, it was confusing that Matthew was questioning it so hard in the first place.

“Why… Would I not be?” Slightly difficult to keep the affrontation out of his voice, Attila was more just hoping to end the conversation.

“Oh my god.” Matthew dropped his head into his hand, putting his pen down to let his other hand briefly drag through his hair. It was impossible for Attila to be that stupid, it had to be. There was no way. Right? He let out a sigh, barely resisting the urge to knock his head on the desk. “My Alpha.” Matthew forced himself to choose his words carefully. “Did- Did you forget how your rank type is supposed to work?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” The barest hint of a growl wormed into Attila’s voice, making him sound a lot more peeved with the implications than he actually was. Matthew ducked his head slightly in an entirely pathological reaction. He could almost feel his ears flattening against his head, a small whimper getting caught in his mouth.

“Attila.” Matthew raised his head back up, a mixture of shock and exasperation tinging his voice. “You’re not supposed to be able to do that!” As much as he would have tried otherwise, there wasn’t any helping the rise in pitch. Attila grimaced at the genuine upset in his tone.

“That’s supposed to be impossible unless you-” Matthew abruptly cut himself off. The reality of the situation halting his impending panic. Oh. Oh no. He quickly took a very keen interest in the remaining territory documents, hoping to avoid eye contact for a moment or twelve.

Attila held still, trying to understand the apparent existential crisis happening beside him. His brain was coming up blank, almost alarmingly so. “Uh-” He cut himself off before he could begin. Although somehow in breaking his own silence, the pieces fell into place. Fuck.

Attila silently picked up the half empty glass of whiskey he had been sipping at for the last hour and downed the rest of it. “I can’t tell him about this.” He said with a somewhat resigned sigh. “Falk had his virgin transformation barely a fortnight ago and his first heat spell mere bloody days ago. He doesn’t need this on top of all that.” His words petered off into a quiet grumble, the next few months playing out in his head in worrying detail.

“It’s… not something you can really avoid, my Alpha. It might go down like a waterlogged lead weight. But you might not have a choice.” Matthew paused, trying to find the words. “He’ll just have to learn about mate-bonds faster than he’s probably prepared to.” They were all fiercely protective of their Omega, but as newly matured as Falk was, he wasn’t a pup. He was however, in a very intensely vulnerable state due to his virgin transformation being still so recent. And there definitely wasn’t a manual for this.

“... I don’t want to hurt him.” A smile twitched at the corner of Matthew’s mouth. The raw genuity in Attila’s quiet mutter telling him everything he needed to know. He gently set the papers he was holding down on the study’s desk, swivelling in his chair to face his Alpha. Attila looked downright downtrodden, caught in a loop of anxieties over things Matthew knew he was simply incapable of.

“I severely doubt you could.” Attila glanced up at him, switching from staring at a point beyond the study desk. “Falk’s in a scary place, a lot of things have happened to him without a single pause for any sort of breath. Him getting hurt is easier than anyone would like right now, but you could never do that.” Matthew gave a quiet bark of laughter. “No one would hear the end of it if you did, especially not yourself.”

Attila heaved a sigh, worrying the inside of his lower lip. He didn’t want to entertain the concept of catastrophe to quite that extent. Whether he liked it or not, the Omega was going to find out sooner or later; be it from him, or god forbid someone else. His blood warmed at the mere thought.

“... Attila?” Attila started out of the thought train he briefly lost himself in, glancing back up to meet Matthew’s concerned eyes. He shook his head clear of the admittedly useless theorizing. There wasn’t much he could do against the situation, Alpha type mate-bonds weren’t exactly something you could shrug off and ignore. But all the new possessive instincts that came with them were going to be difficult to suppress. Very difficult.

“This stays in here for now… At least until he’s adjusted to the Moon’s effects.” Keeping secrets wasn’t something Attila was particularly fond of, or even particularly good at, but sometimes it was necessary. Not that the necessity made the concept any less bitter. And a secret such as this could be a dangerous thing.

Matthew bowed his head, knowing that his Alpha had made his decision. A decision that would definitely bite him later if he wasn’t careful, but it wasn’t his place to say that. Not yet, anyway. “Yes, my Alpha…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry y'all had to wait so long for this one, honestly this is probably around the time gap to expect between new chapters moving forward... As y'all can see, I'm pretty much working off my own werewolf lore for this story, which you'll be getting snippets of throughout future chapters and I am totally not just making up as I go along. Maybe.
> 
> For those maybe confused, Alpha-type werewolves in this world *must* sleep on their own, with the rest of the pack sharing a sort of communal nest. This is less about the Alpha being a dick, and more about their psyche physically disallowing them to sleep with other wolves. The only exception to this is if they've mate-bonded with another wolf.
> 
> Similarly, non Alpha-type wolves are almost totally incapable of sleeping alone, hence the communal nests. The reason that Falk has been depicted as sleeping alone up to this point is mostly due to that part of his brain not activating until his virgin transformation.


End file.
